That’s alive, that’s alive,
that’s alive, the neighbor calls
to his son, following the creek bed.
Why am I stuck on wanting a word
halfway between mother and neighbor,
a stepping stone slick with moss,
the kind of stone that falls
from my neighbor’s wall all spring long.
See how there’s no set word
for the neighbor’s mothering
the mother neighboring
*
start from startle: childish leap
stop from stopper: palm against the opening
Explore Related Work:
Jessica Jacobs When Noah was still / just a man, not yet sailor and savior, / God said, / “Make yourself a word, / for I have decided to silence / all flesh.”
Nomi Stone My wife secretly took / a bunch of cuttings this fall / while I stood watch: two leaves // of a succulent from IKEA. . . .
Ashley M. Jones An mmhmm is softer, sweeter than yes— / out of my mother’s mouth, a bright song—how / beautiful, this flavor of English. . . .
